


Solace

by InsanelyYours96



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aquaphobia, Dissociation, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 08:20:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14374722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsanelyYours96/pseuds/InsanelyYours96
Summary: “Whoever made you believe yourself worthless waswrong, Tony Stark.”





	Solace

Tony knows there’s something different that day the moment he steps onto the battlefield.

Loki seems genuinely pissed for the first time since New York.

When the magic hits Tony, it’s not a blow. It’s restrains him. Keeps him hovering in the air, held in place even as his suit is shut down by the overload of foreign energy.

Loki has always been smart about the places he hits Iron Man. Tony can’t say how many times parts of his suit have been lost to the Gods good aim.

Yet this time Loki’s magic doesn’t break off a limb. It holds him the air until green eyes glance to him and away. Dismissive.

He is thrown back. Plunging into water. The ocean. His suit struggles to reboot after the overload of magic.

Water, water, water.

_Can’t breathe, can’t think, it hurts, make it stop--_

_“Are you ready to comply, Tony Stark?”_

_A smile. Water dripping down his face. Lungs working overtime. Heart beating too-quickly, electrical shocks leaving his limbs shaky._

_“Never.”_

Tony had made his suit waterproof. There were no gaps that could be penetrated. But a glancing blow near the start of the battle meant a hairline fracture in his leg. It meant pressure building and water flooding in at his thighs. Rising, trying to fill his suit.

The arc reactor doesn’t spark like the car battery.

Tony is frozen, heart beating overtime, stuck in panic and memories. He has to get out. To escape.

“Reboot successful,” JARVIS says.

Tony turns on his thrusters. Five percent.

Shoots out of the ocean and doesn’t aim to land anywhere.

Hits the sand.

_The sand is uncomfortably warm beneath his bare feet. The metal in his chest is scalding. Burning him. It’s something he’ll have to fix when he’s home. If he gets home._

“Eject,” he splutters.

The suit unfolds around him. He can’t breathe. Can’t think.

Voices argue in his ear, debating tactics. Nobody questions his silence. Had they even noticed Loki throw him into the ocean?

He peels the communication device off, crushing it, breathing quick and ragged. His undersuit is soaked, clinging to him like a second skin.

He shakes.

He doesn’t know -- can’t keep track of -- how long it lasts.

The panic.

He has techniques he tries to employ, but all he can think of is the helplessness.

Being held in the air by Loki’s magic.

Being held down, water pushing into his lungs.

A electromagnet forced into his body. A car battery that could fail at any moment. _Sparking_. Inducing nerve damage that’s not in any file anywhere.

“--ark. Stark!”

Tony looks up.

Loki is standing before him, not a foot away. The God is frowning at him.

Tony stares back at him and knows he should climb back into the suit. But it felt like a prison, constricting him. Not even keeping out the water. He couldn’t **_breathe--_ **

A hand grips his forearm. Tony blinks himself back to reality.

“Come to finish the job?” Tony asks. He’s shaking, but he’s not afraid. Not of death. He would prefer it to another Afghanistan.

He can still hear the water. The _sea_.

Approximately seventy one percent of his planet was covered in water.

He’s on sand--a beach.

Too close.

Too much.

Loki’s still looking at him, eyes searching his face for something.

“The battle is over,” he says. “It is time to return to your tower.”

Tony stares at him. Breathes. In and out. In. Out.

He’s dissociating. He knows he is.

He’s shivering. Dripping wet.

The hand on his arm doesn’t feel constricting. It feels warm.

He pushes into the touch, seeking.

The cave was always cold, even at midday.

“I don’t like water,” he finds himself saying. His voice is harsh, a soft rasp. Revealing a weakness to the enemy.

He doesn’t feel like himself. He feels like he’s barely holding human form. Like he’s going to break apart, maybe evaporate or maybe transform into something monstrous, something that suits him better.

Loki stares at him for a moment more. Tony can’t categorize the look on his face. It isn’t pity or sympathy. It isn’t calculating, either.

The God tightens his grip. The tingling feeling Tony has come to associate with Loki’s magic overtakes him, before relinquishing a moment later.

He’s dry.

Tony stares. His muscles slowly relax, tension draining as warmth surrounds him.

Loki didn’t throw him back into the water as he half-expected.

He doesn't understand.

He doesn't _understand_.

“Thank you,” Tony says distantly. His own hand rises, falling over the one still on his arm. He squeezes over Loki’s fingers, forcing himself to meet green eyes. To be present as he repeats, “ _Thank you_ , Loki.”

Loki was the one to throw him into the water in the first place.

But also too, here he was. Making him warm again. Looking at him, with something in his eyes that is neither hatred nor indifference.

“This changes nothing,” Loki says lowly, eyes roaming over Tony’s cracked-open face. His vulnerabilities laid bare.

Tony smiles, sharp and broken. “Of course not,” he whispers, slowly releasing Loki’s hand. His thumb had been drawing across the God’s skin, light, nimble strokes he only notices once he’s stopped. “Nevertheless.”

Loki nods, acknowledging that Tony’s thanks still stands. Tony expects him to leave it at that. To let go. To vanish.

Instead, the God reels him in by his forearm, until he is a line of heat up Tony’s body. Long limbs wrap around his middle, holding, firm but not constrictive. _Hugging_.

Tony’s breath punches out of him in a quick little gasp-sob hybrid. He can’t remember the last time he was hugged.

At least two years ago, when he and Pepper were still together.

He buries his head against Loki’s throat with a hurt little sound, wrapping his arms around the God and pulling him tighter. Closer.

Pure, warm comfort.

“If I had anticipated this reaction, I would have thrown you through a building,” Loki says quietly, face buried in the hair behind his ear.

Tony laughs, short and surprised. “You’re the one that hugged me, sweetheart,” he rasps right back, nuzzling into the leather of Loki’s collar.

Loki’s exhale rustles his hair.

“You looked like you were about to shatter apart, Stark. You’ll hardly be a suitable enemy if you lose that mind of yours.”

Tony can hear the pulse in his neck, a bit too quick for the indifference his voice hints at. “Are you calling me clever? I’m flattered.”

Loki shifts, as if to pull away, and Tony tightens his hold despite knowing he can hardly compete with the Gods strength. Loki stills, though. Allows the embrace to linger.

“Being intelligent and being clever are not the same,” he rebuts.

“I know,” Tony admits against his neck. “But you can be both. You are. So am I.”

Loki’s breath hitches in his throat for a split second. Tony only noticies because he’s basically plastered to it.

Tony hums lightly at the reaction but quiets quickly, enjoying himself. He feels strangely safe. Loki could reach up and snap his neck, or pull the reactor from his chest, or throw him back into the ocean sans suit, yet Tony feels at ease for the first time in far, far too long.

Tony wishes that this did change something. That he could take Loki back to the base with him, not to turn over to the Avengers but to keep and compliment and hug.

But Tony wasn’t stupid or suicidal enough to say that out loud. He had no idea what prompted this display of consideration, and he probably never would.

He could just stand within the steady band of Loki’s arms and enjoy the moment. The melody of their breaths mismatched tempo. The warmth of lingering magic and Loki’s body. The feeling of being together instead of alone.

 _Thank you_ , he thinks fervently. _I know I’m not worth even this much, but thank you for letting me believe even for a moment that somebody could care about me._

Loki pulls back abruptly, something strange and dark in his eyes when Tony blinks up to meet his gaze. _What?_

“Whoever made you believe yourself worthless was _wrong_ , Tony Stark.”

There’s something vicious and hard and sure in Loki’s voice, something that reaches into Tony and almost makes him _believe_ in the truth of these words.

Loki leans forward, pressing a firm kiss to Tony’s forehead, and vanishes in a tingle of magic.

Tony stares a bit vacantly at space the God vacated, off-kilter and almost _longing_ \--

For what? His return?

 _Yes,_  Tony thinks, _I want him here, with me._

But it did not matter what Tony wanted. Loki was a villain, Tony was a ‘hero,’ and soft moments by the shore did not matter.

Or did matter, but could not. _Would_ not.

(Until Thanos.

And, well, they all needed a hug after the ruins left behind in the wake of that mad man.

Especially Loki.

And this time, Tony would be the one to provide the comfort.)


End file.
